


Friendship

by AnnieVH



Series: Don't Come Back [12]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, mr. gold's pawnshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal stops by his father's shop with his friends. Rumple might have a friend of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: past domestic abuse (including psychological, verbal and sexual), past child abuse, terrible parenting all around. Anti-Milah, anti-Malcolm. Rated mature just for safety.
> 
> Verse: Don’t Come Back, a Behind Closed Doors remix
> 
> Beta: MaddieBonanaFana

 

“Chandelier, broken arm, easy to fix,” Rumple muttered, writing the words down before accommodating the object inside a large box. He checked for space, decided there was none, and closed it with silver tape. “Box number three. Broken items.”

Three full boxes of junk. That was heartbreaking. Most things he even recognized from the past; beautiful, precious things that didn't have to be so neglected. But it was not his place to say anything, as he was constantly reminded. Right now, he was an employee, and his job consisted of shoving things into boxes.

His father seemed quite impressed with his system when Rumple explained it to him and answered the dozen questions that followed without batting an eye. He probably expected him to do a piss poor job, giving him the opportunity to lecture his son extensively on his responsibilities.

“I'll do all small items first, put everything in boxes-”

“How do I know what's in each box?” Malcolm interrupted.

“I'll assign each a number and make an individual list-”

“What if I lose the list?”

“I'll tape a copy to the box.”

“What if it falls off?”

“I'll transcribe everything into a notebook-”

“What if it gets misplaced?”

“...Don't misplace it?”

Malcolm didn't give him a second to dwell on that. “What if something is broken?”

Rumple almost laughed at that. “A lot of things are broken. But I think clearing the space is more important at the moment, wouldn't you agree? Whatever you want me to fix, I can do that once the shop is clean.”

“What about the larger items?” Malcolm said, quickly.

“I'll list them in alphabetical order, it'll be easier to keep track of it.”

His father nodded, but Rumple knew he was trying to poke holes in his work.

 _Good luck doing that_ , he thought, feeling confident for the first time since their arrangement started. If anything, he knew the pawnshop and he knew how to handle everything inside. He'd been doing it since he was a boy.

“You haven't told me where you want them taken to,” he asked.

Malcolm's face cracked into a smile. “Does that matter? With that leg, I hardly think you'll be doing the heavy lifting.”

“I've been doing the heavy lifting for seven years on _that_ leg, as you put it,” Rumple replied, getting defensive.

That was not exactly true, but he was not about to admit to the old man that he was basically an invalid when it came to manual labor. Besides, he might want to change the terms of the agreement if Rumple asked him to hired somebody else. Or maybe he'd ask Belle, and the poor girl already had enough on her plate.

That was something to worry about later, though. It'd been five days since he started on the pawnshop, and between sorting through things and trying to keep track of every item, work had hardly progressed. Just the books took him two days, between checking for damage and writing down the details – title, author and number of pages, as demanded by father dearest.

Still, as daunting as it could be sometimes, Rumple did enjoy certain aspects of it. The solitude, for example, was a blessing. It was good to be alone in a familiar space, while not having to worry about Baelfire's safety, or his own for that matter. Every creak of the old house still make him shudder, but in the pawnshop, he barely looked over his shoulder.

Not that living in Malcolm's house was so unpleasant. They had fallen into a routine pretty quickly, where Rumple and Baelfire would leave in the morning to walk to school – or as close to school as Baelfire would let him get to – then Rumple would spend the entire morning cataloging broken relics. Once his contractual duties had been fulfilled, he'd take the bus back to pick Bae up and go home. Malcolm wouldn't acknowledge their presence unless they crossed each other in the corridor, and that had only happened a couple of times. As far as he was concerned, it was better that way.

All in all, life in Storybrooke wasn't so different from Boston. Rumple still worried, he'd probably never stop, but at least in here he could have a job and make sure his son was protected. Milah wouldn't dare coming here, at least for now. And he always knew where Baelfire was, so he didn't have to keep an eye on him.

Or at least he thought so.

That Friday afternoon, just as he piled up the third box in the corner, the front door bell rang loudly, announcing someone.

“How did that thing survive, of all things?” Rumple asked to himself. Then, he said, “I'll be right there!”

It was probably Archie. Or his father, coming in to check on the progress.

When Baelfire's voice said, “Uhn... hi? Dad?” Rumple shot to his feet.

His son was standing in the middle of the shop, hands shoved deep into his pockets, an apologetic look on his face that Rumple knew very well. It was the “please, don't be mad” look. By his side, there was a tall kid his age, dressed in the same uniform, but looking a lot more relaxed than Bae did. Behind them, a skinny Asian girl had dropped her backpack on the floor and was examining a long sword that was on display inside a glass cabinet.

Rumple asked, “What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?” his voice haunted, awaiting bad news. Bae had spotted his mother and gotten away from school. His friends came along to protect him.

Bae said, “No, it's okay. Last period got canceled. I thought I'd save you the trip. So... surprise? I guess?”

“I said I was going to pick you up.”

It was a statement, rather than a reprimand, but the other boy still gave him a curious look. The girl looked up from the sword, but quickly decided that was not as interesting and looked down again.

“Yes...” Bae said, carefully. “But I got off early so... I came here.”

His eyes darted quickly to the boy beside him. Rumple didn't know if that meant “it's all his fault” or “please, not in front of my new friends”, but he acquiesced.

“Right. Of course. Hello.”

Rumple put down the notepad he'd been scribbling down all morning and offered his hand to the other boy.

“Hi, Mr. Cassidy. I'm Graham. And that one is Mulan.”

The Asian girl waved at him. “Hey.”

“She's not good with people,” Graham explained.

“This sword is really cool, Mr. Cassidy,” Mulan said.

Rumple crossed his hands over the cane. “Do you like swords, young lady?”

Graham said, “Don't get her started.”

And Bae added, rather impressed, “She knows _everything_ about swords.”

“Is it for sale?” she asked, hopeful.

“Not yet, I'm sorry.”

“Are you guys going to open soon?”

“I don't know. Bae will let you know, as soon as I do.”

“Cool. This is _so_ cool.”

Rumple pressed his lips together, a torrent of words itching at the back of his throat, wanting to get out. _You know, that sword is a beauty, I've always liked it. It's a katana, a Japanese sword. It doesn't have a lot of history, it was brought into the shop in the seventies, by a dissatisfied tourist who spent a ridiculous amount of money on it thinking it was an actual antic. As you can see by the-_

“Neal said you're cleaning up this place for Mr. Gold, Mr. Cassidy,” Graham said. “Is Mr. Gold going to reopen?”

“I'm still not sure.”

“I bet there are a lot of interesting things in here.”

“There are more broken things than anything else.”

“Uhn, will you hire anybody to move everything around? 'Cause I've got some experience doing that.”

“That's actually up to Mr. Gold. Bae, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Mulan giggled. “Your dad calls you _bae_? Dude, you're never living this down.”

“Neal,” Rumple said. “Sorry. Neal. Can we talk?”

Bae followed him to the back of the shop.

He still heard Graham chastising the girl, “Stop it, Mulan. It's not funny.”

“That's why Neal is a cool name,” Bae said, blushing furiously. “And Baelfire isn't.”

“Yes, I forgot about that.”

“Did you have to forget it in front of Graham? He probably thinks I'm a dork now.”

“They seem like good kids. Are they your new friends?”

“I guess.” Bae saw the look on his face. “What?”

“I have to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Are you kids playing hooky?”

“No!” Bae said, loud enough that the chatter on the other side of the curtain stopped. He lowered his voice. “No, we're not. I told you, my last period got canceled.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I don't do that anymore.”

“I know.”

“You know... but you don't trust-”

“No, of course I trust you, Bae. I'm sorry, you caught me by surprise, that's all.”

Bae crossed his arms and didn't say a word. Since the divorce, he'd been a model student and given him no reason to worry about his behavior. But still, with teenagers you never knew.

“We agreed that I'd come and pick you up,” Rumple said.

“I know,” Bae said. “I was going to wait, but Graham and Mulan said they knew where the pawnshop was. And they kinda wanted to show me around.”

Rumple raised an eyebrow.

“Like, for a couple of hours. I said I'd ask for your permission.”

“Bae-”

“And they said the town is super safe and all. You wouldn't have to worry.”

“Even so, Bae. I really don't like the idea of you being alone, at least until we get you a cellphone.”

“I wouldn't be alone. I'd be with Graham and Mulan. And I'd be really careful.”

“Bae-”

“And it might take forever to get a cellphone, you know that. Please, papa. I've been inside the house for a week now. And Graham could walk me home-”

“No,” Rumple jumped in. “I'll come and get you. I don't want anyone knowing where we live.”

The less people knew the better. Milah had found them before with much less information than their full address.

Bae didn't bother to say he was paranoid, though.

“Does that mean yes?” he asked, hopeful.

“If you promise to be careful, and if you promise to come back here at four then... it's fine.”

“Thank you! Thank you, papa!”

Bae jumped him with open arms and gave him a tight hug. Rumple swayed on his weak ankle, almost loosing his balance.

“Alright, alright, don't overdo it. I've already said yes. But I want you back here at four. Five minutes later than that and I'm calling the sheriff.”

“Yes, I promise. I'm gonna be here. And I'll be extra careful, you'll see. Nothing bad is going to-”

Bae's rapid speech was interrupted by a cracking sound. In his haste to pick up his backpack from the floor, he knocked over a vase from a nearby stand.

“Off to a good start, I see.”

“Sorry, papa. I'll pay for it.”

“Leave it, it's worthless junk. I'll just tell your grandpa I knocked it over.”

“Won't he be mad, or-”

“I can handle your grandpa. Come on, your friends are waiting.”

Graham and Mulan were whispering over the sword when they came through the curtain.

Mulan stepped up.

“Mr. Cassidy, can I please hold the sword? I promise I'll be careful. I fight with swords _all the time_.”

_Where did he find this girl?_

“Sorry, my dear,” he said. “Mr. Gold would have my head if I did that.”

“Told you,” Graham said. To Bae, he asked, “We good to go?”

“Yup.”

“Cool.”

“But be back by four, Neal!” Rumple shouted after them, as Neal hoarded his friends towards the door before his father had the chance to change his mind.

“Will do, dad! Come on, Mulan, _lets go_!”

Mulan gave the sword a longing look and said, “You're gonna look so cool on my bedroom wall. Just you wait.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't until he heard the front door bell that Rumple stopped worrying. From the moment Bae left the shop he'd been plagued with the worst possible thoughts, no matter how safe his classmates claimed the town was. Rumple knew better. He knew Milah. Though he supposed Bae having friends now was an advantage. The boy had spent the last year pretty much on his own, and that made him an easier target. Milah wouldn't try to snatch him from the streets in broad daylight with Graham and Mulan standing right there.

Besides, the little girl fought with swords _regularly,_ he told himself. The thought of that scrawny girl trying to hold a samurai sword was so amusing that he had a smile on his lips when he limped through the curtain to greet his son.

“I'm impressed, Neal. Twenty minutes early-”

He stopped, his smile fading quickly. The shop was empty, aside from himself.

No. Not empty. He could feel someone right behind him, their eyes on the back of his neck.

The chuckle came first, low pitched and full of contempt. Then, came the words, “The prodigal son's return.”

Rumple whipped around as quickly as he could while holding on to his cane, unable to suppress an outcry of surprise.

Felix's gaunt face stretched into a joyless smile.

“You still scare easy,” he said, satisfied with that response.

Rumple pressed a hand to his chest to feel the mad beating of his heart. “You could've announced yourself, instead of waiting in the corner for the chance to jump me. That door was locked, how did you get in?”

“Malcolm gave me the key. He said you'd be gone by now.”

“I'm putting in an extra hour today. If you're here for the boxes, they're in the back.”

Felix observed him from head to toe, and Rumple took the time to do the same. By now, Felix should be nearing forty, but his face still held on to some boyishness, and his blond hair didn't have a single streak of white. He was so thin his suit seemed to hang from his body, instead of fitting it.

“You don't look happy to see an old friend,” Felix remarked.

“Since when are we friends?”

That reply seemed to amuse him. “Well, your father wants us to play nice.”

“Or we can just avoid each other. That would work for me. Are you here for the boxes?”

“I'm here to see if you're doing a good job.”

Rumple indicated the curtain with his free hand. “After you.”

There wasn't much to show, but Rumple thought he was doing a good job so far. The boxes were piling up against a wall, all following his meticulous system.

Felix frowned his nose at them and said, “Moving slowly, aren't we?”

Rumple resisted the urge to point out the size of the place and the ridiculous amount of objects that had piled up along the years.

“I thought you said you could do this job.”

“And as you see, I am clearly doing it.”

“Yes. One box at a time.”

“Are you here to take them anywhere?”

Felix considered it, then said, “No, lets wait until you've done real progress.”

Rumple felt himself burning with anger, but held his tongue.

“Was that all you wanted?”

“How did you get _that_?” he asked, giving his cane a soft kick.

For a frightful instant, Rumple thought he'd lose balance and fall on his face, providing Felix with a good laugh, but he managed to firm himself on the floor.

“Is that a souvenir from the wife?”

“What is it you want, Felix?” Rumple replied, before the weight of those words could sink in.

Felix shrugged. “I was curious about you, Junior. I never thought you'd show your face again.”

Rumple started for the front of the shop, done with wasting time. “Is that all?”

“How long are you planning on staying?” Felix asked, coming after him.

“I don't know.”

“Your father said two months-”

“Then two months.”

“But I don't know. It's not like you and the brat have anywhere else to go.”

Rumple turned around so fast he caught Felix by surprise and he had to take a step back not to collide with him.

“Do _not_ talk about my son!” Rumple all but shouted, looking up to Felix. The other man was a head taller and much more imposing, despite the lean frame. If it came down to a fist fight, the odds were not in Rumple's favor but, god, it would be so satisfying to at least try to punch that man in the nose.

It didn't take Felix long to recover from the shock and sneer at him again. “Well, look who's got a backbone all of the sudden.”

“Uhn, am I interrupting?”

Felix broke eye contact to look over Rumple's shoulder. “Princess!” he announced. “What a wonderful surprise!”

Reluctantly, Rumple took a step back, eyes still on Felix, expecting the other man to throw a punch, or say something that would push him over the edge.

“Is everything alright?” Belle asked, cautious, stepping away from the door and closer to the both of them.

Rumple finally looked away from Felix to reassure her that, “Yes, everything is alright.”

“If you came here to pick up boxes, I'm afraid you won't have much to do, princess,” Felix said.

Rumple grasped the handle of his cane.

“I'm not here to work,” she said.

Felix watched her carefully. “What, then?”

“Then, it's none of your business.”

Felix frowned his face at her, displeased with that answer.

Rumple asked, “Are we done?”

“I'll tell your father you need more time,” Felix said, and walked out of the shop without so much as a glance at either of them.

“Quite the charmer, isn't he?” Belle said.

“Always has been,” Rumple replied. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“I'm not, it looked like you were about to make a bad decision.”

“I was.” Rumple leaned back on the counter. His left hand was still curled in a fist, aching for Felix's nose to punch, but the anger was starting to dissipate. “I'm glad I didn't, though. What does my father want now?”

“Pardon me?”

“He sent you.”

“He didn't. I'm actually off work,” she said, indicating her clothes. A loose shirt and a brown circle skirt, all underneath a heavy coat. It occurred to Rumple that putting her in that uniform was pointless. She was a pretty girl, regardless of how much skin she was showing.

“So early?” he asked, brushing the thought away.

“He's not home. I finish my chores much faster when he's not constantly interrupting me to tell me what I'm doing wrong. Your dinner is in the microwave, by the way.”

“You could have left a note on the fridge for that. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

“Actually, I come bearing good news.” She looked around. “Is there... anywhere we could sit?”

“I... don't think so, sorry,” he said. All he had was an old army cot in the back room, and he wouldn't dare offer her one of the termite-eaten chairs.

She bounced on her heels, cheerfully. “It's alright. It shouldn't take too long. I was going to tell you this on Monday, but when I saw the shop and thought, why wait? You look like you could use some good news.”

“That I do.”

“Do you still need a job?”

Rumple almost answered, “Desperately!” He'd spend the entire week avidly reading the paper, circling every job opportunity in red. As expected, they were not many, but he'd dropped his resume in a couple of retail stores. Belle had been kind enough to offer her own cellphone number and to pass on any messages.

“Did anybody call back?” he asked, hopeful.

“They didn't. But I have a job opportunity for you, regardless.”

“I'm listening.”

“One of the boys who works for my dad had to leave town without notice, and now he needs someone to drive the van around next week. And I mentioned that you have a driver's license.” She paused. “You do have it, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Good. He can't do it himself since he'll have to tend to the shop. I can't drive the van, but I thought you could do all the driving and I'd do all the delivering.”

Rumple stared at her.

Belle shrugged. “I know it's not a very glamorous job. It's rather daunting, actually. And it's only for a week, before Gus comes back. And the money is not-”

“Thank you.”

Belle stopped talking.

“Truly,” Rumple said. “It's just what I needed. I owe you for this.”

“You don't. And, to be fair, I'm also being a little selfish.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “If I have to be suck in that van with my dad for a week, I might actually kill him.”

Rumple felt himself smiling. “I haven't killed my father yet, Belle. I'm sure you'd be able to hold back.”

“Fair point. I told him you're only available in the evening, but he said that works just fine.”

“So, all I have to do is drive you around while you deliver flowers?” he asked.

“Yes. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, though Wednesday is bound to be a busy night. But you should be ready for Saturday, because it's going to be _insane_.”

“How so? Wednesday is Valentine's Day.”

“It's the night of the school dance. We have to deliver flowers to the school and help them set up. And I know a lot of people are going to be celebrating that same night, since Valentine's Day is on a week day.”

“Right,” Rumple said, remembering something he'd rather forget. “The dance. Girls.”

Belle giggled. “You look terrified.”

Rumple shook his head. Terrified didn't quite cover. At the age of fourteen, he had no idea how to talk to girls. The opposite sex, in all its curves and giggles and skirts, filled him with anxiety and fear. And yet, he managed to get a girl pregnant at the age of seventeen. Baelfire was a charming young man, who'd never been scared of girls, at least no more than any other boy his age. He was probably going to start a lot earlier than he did, and there was no telling how well that was going to go.

Belle said, “It's safe.”

“What is?”

“The dance. Mary Margaret always chaperons it, and her boyfriend is Deputy Nolan, so he'll be there for sure.”

Rumple sighed. “I suppose it's inevitable. I can't lock him inside the house forever.”

“And your father will have a date coming over, so it's probably best that-”

“He still _dates_?” Rumple asked, baffled.

Belle shrugged. “I'm afraid so.”

Rumple frowned his face in disgust. “Ugh, god. I need to get Bae out of the house, then.”

“It's probably best. I've heard the neighbors tend to complain-”

“Yes, I lived there, Belle,” he said, stopping her before she could stir up memories of scantly dressed women coming out of his father's bedroom in the middle of the night. “Maybe Bae can sleep over at a friend's house.”

“Van driving duties are bound to run late on Saturday. You can stop by the shop tomorrow at four, if you'd like. Then you can discuss the hours and payment with dad.”

“Yes, I'll do that. Thank you, Belle.”

“And don't worry about girls,” Belle told him. “At that age they're more scared of each other than anything else. You'll see.”

“Right,” Rumple said, skeptical, wondering if he shouldn't give Bae the talk again, just to be safe.

 


End file.
